


echoes of ourselves on the ancient cave walls

by sesquidpedalian



Series: Dr. Stone Week 2020 [3]
Category: Dr. STONE (Anime)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Late Night Conversations, Not Really Character Death, Past Lives, Pirates, Sort Of, Story within a Story, i made no effort to research for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesquidpedalian/pseuds/sesquidpedalian
Summary: The Pirate Queen stands at the prow of her ship. Her blonde hair flutters like a hoisted flag in the full wind. She adjusts her stance, stares out into the brilliant expanse of the ocean, and feels the salt tang of the air settle in her like she could belong nowhere else.The Old Astronomer is dying. He lies propped up against a tree, the starlight through the leaves speckling his face. His wine-dark eyes stare unseeing through a gap in the branches above at the night sky, the barest hint of a smile playing on his face.The Cat is chasing a butterfly.They all have their stories to tell.For Dr. Stone Week 2020 Day Three: Exploration - Reincarnation, Tales, Pirates
Series: Dr. Stone Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078955
Kudos: 16
Collections: Dr. Stone Week 2020





	echoes of ourselves on the ancient cave walls

“Who do you think you were in a past life?” Gen asks out of nowhere.

They are, all of them, gathered around a bonfire. It’s getting late, but nobody really wants to get up and leave when there is warmth and camaraderie and food still left to be had. At Gen’s words, there is a momentary, puzzled lull in the conversation, before Senku says, “You believe in reincarnation, mentalist?”

“Just curious,” Gen says, in that way of his that makes it impossible to tell if he’s being serious.

“I bet I was some kind of cool superhero,” Ginro says dreamily. “I’d always save people’s lives and get all the girls and I’d have the best silver spear that never ever breaks—”

“That’s dumb,” Kinro mutters. From somewhere among the listening villagers, there is a snort of laughter.

“Well do you have any better stories?” Ginro demands, offended.

“Past lives too, huh?” Senku says, a finger in his ear. “My dad had some interesting ideas about what’s necessary for survival.”

“It wasn’t in the Hundred Tales, it’s just something we know about,” Kohaku says, mostly focused on devouring her plate of food.

Ruri, settled demurely beside her sister, adds, “As far as I can remember, we village kids have always known about reincarnation. I don’t know if any of us could say where we learned it from.”

“Interesting,” he mutters.

“What about you, dear Senku?” Gen prods. “What do you think you used to be?”

Senku rolls his eyes, poking at the fire with a stick. “There’s no actual proof reincarnation exists. Why bother pretending you get more chances at life after this one? People die, and as far as science knows, that’s it for them. No second chances. Your consciousness and by extension your life as you understand it, comes entirely from a three pound slab of meat sitting in your skull firing off electrical signals. We may as well stop waiting around wishing for something that might not even be real and do better now.”

There is a pause.

“That’s very...philosophical of you, dear,” Gen says diplomatically.

“You’re so logical all the time—don’t you ever get _bored_?” Kohaku asks. 

“It is kind of fun to think about,” Suika says, nodding along. “I wonder who I would have been…”

“Tons of scientific things are interesting to think about too!” Senku protests. “Like rogue planets, and rocket propulsion, and the curvature of space-time, and quantum immortality—”

“Okay yes we get it, thanks,” Kohaku says, waving her hand in his direction. “To actually answer your question, Gen, I think I would be a pirate.” She nods decisively.

“A pirate? And why is that, dear Kohaku?”

“Oh!” Chrome jumps in with a shout. “We used to talk about this all the time!”

“We were little kids,” Kohaku puts in, preemptively defensive.

“Kohaku would be ruler of the high-seas, and I would be a navigator on a really important navy ship, and my crew would be trying to capture her—”

“Obviously we humiliated you every time—”

“That’s not true at all!”

* * *

The Pirate Queen stands at the prow of her ship. Her blonde hair flutters like a hoisted flag in the full wind. She adjusts her stance, stares out into the brilliant expanse of the ocean, and feels the salt tang of the air settle in her like she could belong nowhere else. Is it reasonable to be keeping lookout from here and not from the crow’s nest? Probably not, but she cuts an imposing figure against the clear blue skies and that is the much more important part. In the distance, something is approaching, sails raised like a challenge. She smiles slowly.

The _HMS Science Kingdom_.

(“ _Hey, what, no, that’s not what the ship was called at all. Stop interrupting my story, Chrome!_ ”)

The _HMS Idiotica_.

(“ _There’s no way they had ships named like that. You don’t have any sense of subtlety at all, Kohaku!_ ”)

The _HMS_ _Beagle_.

(“ _What’s a beagle, Senku?”_ / “ _Hm? Oh, a beagle is a type of dog._ HMS Beagle _was the name of a ship Charles Darwin took to the Galápagos Islands. His research led him to develop the Theory of Evolution, which is how we know now that living creatures changed really slowly over time to better suit their environment._ ” / “ _Wait, so are you this Charles guy in this story?_ ” / “ _I don’t care one millimetre. Do what you want._ ”)

The Pirate Queen shouts a battle cry as the ship grows near. Her crew joins in in a swell of raging sound, assembled on the deck ready and itching for a fight. In their hands glitter cutlasses and brass knuckles and clubs, set to mow down their pathetic enemies in a whirlwind of power.

The enemy ship is in range.

“FIRE!” she commands.

The boom of the cannons makes the Queen’s blood sing. The cannonballs collide with the other vessel with the crack and snap of breaking wood. It’s a small merchant ship, ill-equipped for facing down her might, and the promise of easy looting makes the fire of battle all the sweeter as she swings over with the rest of her crew in one smooth arc, dropping onto the other deck.

She lands face-to-face with a runty wide-eyed boy, brown hair pushed back in a bandana. Around his neck he wears a polished stone, bluer than the deepest depths of the ocean. He scrambles back with a yelp as the Queen advances, drawing her sword.

“You again,” she hisses on a forceful downward swing.

The boy, the Apprentice, makes a terrified noise and dives out of the way. 

“Helpless as ever, I see. Get up and fight!” The Queen lunges for him, barely misses getting her hand on his throat. “Let me squash you, little mouse!”

“You’re not the boss of me!” the Apprentice retorts, finally managing to unsheathe the dagger at his hip. He raises it just in time to deflect the Pirate Queen’s next swing. With a clang that rings in her ears, she knocks the weapon away. It skitters far out of reach.

“I’ll let some of my crew take care of you, scrawny thing, if you tell me where that treasure is.”

“What treasure?”

“Don’t play _dumb_ with me.” She punctuates her words with another swing, close enough to graze the Apprentice’s cheek. “ _Thieves_ , where is my sister’s treasure?” she demands, her voice rising to a shout.

With a sharp, panicked breath, he cries, “Okay, okay! It’s hidden in the Navigator’s quarters—one of the books on the shelf is hollow—your treasure is in there, now please don’t kill me!”

The Pirate Queen sneers, lets the tip of her blade rest at the Apprentice’s throat. He stares up at her with eyes bigger than the full moon in the dead of night.

She leans in close.

“The Pirate Queen’s mercy doesn’t come without a price.”

With a quick, deft motion, she cuts the thin leather band the Apprentice is wearing around his neck, dropping the deep blue stone on it right into her hand.

“No!” the Apprentice screams, but the Queen is already gone, racing away in single-minded pursuit of her goal.

She kicks open the door to the Navigator’s quarters. No one there. In takes mere seconds for her to find the shelf and the book—a fat volume with delightfully shiny embellishments on its cover. She tears it open and pauses for a moment to savour the sight.

Nestled in the carved-out pages of the book is a perfect oval of amber. “Mine,” she murmurs into the empty, silent room. She scoops it out and heads for the door, the precious find tucked safely in her hand.

The door bangs open, and two people move to block the doorway.

The Queen hollers a battle cry and leaps for the first one she sees.

The Apprentice, a face full of conflicting emotion, darts backward, out of the room. The Queen gives delighted chase, cutting him across the other cheek.

“Give up now, boy, or you better start praying I do this quick.” She grins, raises her sword as the Apprentice scrabbles for help or a weapon or perhaps just something to hold onto in his final moments.

“Can you do it quicker than I can shoot you?” a new voice interjects. The second person.

The Pirate Queen whirls, ready to take on the newcomer, only to find herself staring at the barrel of a gun. Finger on the trigger, there stands the Navigator. He smiles like a threat, cocky and proud.

“Navigator!” shouts the Apprentice. “Watch out for her, she’s the Lioness of the High Seas, famed for her ruthlessness and terrifying fighting prowess!”

(“ _That’s such a dumb thing to say. I would never say that!_ ” / “ _Shush, I’m not talking about you._ ” / “ _Who else could fit that description, huh? Stop trying to make me look bad and let me tell my part!_ ” / “ _Oi, why am I the Navigator?_ ”)

The Queen bares her teeth and ducks. The gunshot misses her by a mile. 

“Too slow.” She lunges for the Navigator’s throat, her eyes pick out the fluttering pulse point undefended, and—

“Now, Apprentice!” shouts the Navigator.

The thunk of something hard hitting the wooden deck, and a hiss the Pirate Queen knows all too well.

“Smoke bombs!” she shouts. Curse that Apprentice and his endless convoluted inventions. Her sharp hearing makes out the sound of people dancing around her. Undeterred, she calls, “Smoke can’t hurt me! I’m the Pirate Queen, ruler of the high seas! I’ll find you and then you’ll _wish_ you’d never thought to take me on!”

Then, right by her ear, a rasping voice: “Oh, are you sure about that, Miss Lioness?”

She shoots an elbow back, pleased to hear a pained grunt in response. She turns toward the sound, lashes out. Someone screams and for a moment she smiles, thrumming with victory against that insufferable boy, before she recognizes the terror and pain-filled cries of her crew.

“What is this? I can’t breathe!”

“My chest—Ack, it burns!”

“Help, help!”

Panic races through the Pirate Queen—she feels her crew’s discomfort thrumming in her like it’s her own. 

“What did you do to them?” she hisses into the hazy air. Her breaths are starting to feel like fire. She coughs hard, squints enough through her pain to see blood on her hand. 

“Just a little concoction the Navigator and I came up with.” The Apprentice’s voice comes laughing from unseen corners. “You like it? Better get out of here before it eats away your lungs entirely.” He sounds strangely muffled. Where is he? She jabs once in the direction of the voice but too late, she already hears the pattering of feet beating a hasty retreat.

She starts running for the open air above, her world narrowing to the searing pain in her lungs and the desperate need to hold onto the amber in her hand.

On deck, the smoke is just as thick and clinging. The Queen coughs again, getting woozy. Everything _burns_. A snap decision, or else they’ll all die here: “I’ve got what I need! Retreat! Whatever you do, don’t breathe in the smoke!”

The Queen and her crew leap clear of the noxious fumes crowding the merchant vessel. She hauls one last straggler back over and gives the order to hoist sail and flee. Looking over her shoulder, she sees a glint from between the curling plumes of smoke, like the glittering of the ocean’s surface on sunny afternoons. On the deck, like ministers of death, stand two masked figures. One raises a gloved hand, and waves.

“Oh, I’ll be back for you, just you wait,” the Pirate Queen snarls under her breath. She runs a possessive thumb over the smooth, smooth surface of the amber oval cocooned in her palm.

“Goodbye, Miss Lioness,” one of the masked figures murmurs, too soft for anyone to hear.

The Pirate Queen’s ship sails away in the sunlit distance, and both sides live to see another day, knowing down in their bones that their paths will cross again someday.

* * *

“That was a good story, Kohaku!” Suika cheers.

Kohaku tilts her chin up. “Thank you. I’m glad _someone_ appreciates my stories.”

Chrome, arms crossed, definitely-not-pouting, says, “I don’t appreciate your stories because you’re a jerk. Why was I only the Apprentice? I’m not _helpless_ just because I don’t know how to fight like you!”

“You’re welcome to be the Navigator,” Senku grumbles, staring up at the sky above them. “I didn’t agree to be in this story in the first place.”

“You didn’t exactly say you _didn’t_ want to be in it,” Ruri reasons sweetly.

“Exactly!” Kohaku says triumphantly.

She and Ruri exchange grins when Senku makes an exasperated noise in response.

“And why was our ship a tiny merchant vessel? We agreed I was part of the navy!” Chrome continues.

“That was from a different story from years ago. Let it go. This was better.”

“No it wasn’t!”

“I even let you guys have the smoke bombs! Quit complaining.”

“She does have a point. She only managed to get away with that one piece of amber. The Pirate Queen wasn’t so tough after all,” Senku snickers.

“There are much worse things to be than an apprentice,” Gen murmurs placatingly as Kohaku shoots to her feet with a shout and starts chasing their resident scientist around the clearing. “Why, you are the paragon of a lifetime’s passionate pursuit of knowledge, giving up everything to dedicate yourself to learning more from the people around you. Wouldn’t you say that’s quite impressive, dear Chrome?”

Chrome scrunches up his face. The sound of Senku cackling and Kohaku yelling echoes around the edges of the firelight.

“Fine, that is pretty cool. But I wanna tell a story too.”

“Ooh and me next—!”

“Hush now. Let’s listen to Chrome.”

* * *

“Tycho Brahe...I would know that face anywhere…”

The Old Astronomer is dying. He lies propped up against a tree, the starlight through the leaves speckling his face. His wine-dark eyes stare unseeing through a gap in the branches above at the night sky, the barest hint of a smile playing on his face. 

“You’ll be amazed, Tycho. The things we’ve learned since you were last on Earth...All things your work laid the foundation for…”

The Scientist, heedless of the raging battle on the other side of the trees, sinks to his knees in the thick grass. It is just bright enough to see where a stain spreads across the Astronomer’s chest, blood soaking into the fabric and dripping on the dirt below. The Scientist whispers the Astronomer’s name.

The Astronomer laughs, seems to return to himself. He looks at the Scientist through half-lidded eyes. “My friend. I’ve left you all my work, all my observations and data and writings. It is yours now to carry on. You’ll keep this going, won’t you? You’ll keep our science alive.”

“Yeah.” The Scientist is fighting back tears. “Yeah, of course I will. You can count on me.”

“Ah, my student. Look at you, all grown up.” Even now, he is smug and teasing. He settles against the bark with a sigh, gaze growing distant again. The sound of swords clashing, ringing metal and dying screams, seems to fade into the background. He says, “Yes, you will continue the legacy. It’s original, honest work. It’s the _truth_.” 

“It’s the truth, unashamed and verifiable,” the Scientist echoes, remembering years of this conversation, all its tributaries and permutations. “And they’ll hate us—they’ll hate _me_ for it.”

“So you do listen to the things I tell you.”

The Scientist, aghast, cries, “Of course I do, Astronomer! How could I not drink in all the knowledge you have to offer me—”

The Old Astronomer’s shoulders shake weakly as he laughs. 

“Oh.” The Scientist looks away, embarrassed by his own earnestness. A shuddering breath from the Astronomer. “I’ll shoulder on anyway,” the Scientist murmurs. “You taught me that. The value of laughing at others’ scorn. No matter what they think. We don’t need their pity or their praise.”

“Good,” the Astronomer says in that way that still makes the Scientist feel like an over-eager child, desperate to impress. “Tell them their honours come too late.” He chuckles. “I’m already dead, after all.”

“No no no, no you’re not,” the Scientist insists, grabbing the Astronomer’s trembling hand, the hand that once was strong and capable, effortlessly tuning their instruments to the finest precision. “You’re not dead yet, you’re still here, you can’t _go_ yet, idiot—” 

“Who’re you calling an idiot, idiot?” 

The mischievous spark in the Astronomer’s eyes is a nearly painful reminder of all the time they’ve spent together. He is the Scientist’s teacher, sure, but more important, he’s the Scientist’s _friend_. 

“Oh, what now, are you crying?” But the Astronomer’s voice is gentle.

“You’re going to leave me here alone. There’s no one else like you, you know,” the Scientist gasps out between shaky breaths.

“Don’t cry; you still need your vision to continue our work. I’m leaving it all to you. You need those eyes yet, boy, don’t waste them on this old man.”

“No, no, of course not,” the Scientist whispers, though this does nothing to stop the tears.

The Old Astronomer huffs. “You…” Shakes his head. “All right.” He squeezes the Scientist’s hand, once. Quieter, he says, “I think...I should have been kinder to you, my friend.”

“What?” The Scientist straightens up in shock. “You were brilliant! I’ve never been happier than when I was with you. Your kindness never failed me!”

“But now I leave all this heavy work to you, and to you alone. For that burden, and for the hurts I caused you in my dedication to our science, I am sorry.” The Astronomer’s tone becomes urgent, worried in a way that the Scientist has rarely heard. “But you promised, yes? You will.” He doesn’t quite finish the sentence. As if from far away, there is a guttural battle cry.

The enormity of the promise hangs, looming, over the Scientist.

“I will,” he says.

The Old Astronomer’s face wrinkles into a wide smile. “There are some calculations I would’ve liked to do with you. Some tests. Just...just in case. To be absolutely certain you will take the right paths. But I trust you.” He traces a shaky hand over the Scientist’s face, brushing away a few tears. “Be patient. Forget the pursuit of fame.” His expression softens into fondness. “You will be _perfect_. You will do wonders with what I have sown, and someday, you will join me, and Tycho, and Newton, and Galileo, and all those who came before us, the fruits of whose labour we reaped.” 

The Scientist finds he is sobbing too hard to speak. The screams, the fires, the hiss of arrows being loosed. The Astronomer would scoff if he said anything about it, but the Scientist thinks this must be a special kind of damnation.

“Here now, my student. Help me sit up. I’ll be gone before long, and I’d like to see Venus cross the sky one last time.”

The Scientist wraps an arm around the Astronomer’s shoulders, tries to help him move without jostling the ragged wound in the Astronomer’s chest.

“Are you scared?” the Scientist asks at last.

The Old Astronomer laughs, and he sounds almost like himself again. “No. You remember that old poem? ‘Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. / I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.’” He squeezes the Scientist’s hand one last time, and smiles. “See you soon.”

* * *

“He’s _dead_ ,” Suika wails. “He died! Why’d you _kill_ him?” She crosses her arms. “If there had been less talking, it would have been even sadder, Chrome,” she complains, sniffling.

“What, is someone killing me?” Senku pants, skidding to a halt in front of their little cluster of people by the fire.

“Someone killed Senku?” Kohaku asks, stopping as well to blink owlishly at Chrome. “And it wasn’t me?”

“You weren’t even _listening_?” Chrome points an accusatory finger at them. “I told a fantastic story and you guys were just running in circles around the fire like chickens?”

“I heard the last bit, kind of. You were talking about that old astronomer poem, right?” Senku drops to the ground, out of breath. “My dad’s favourite poem. Sentimental old man.”

“I think I know that one. It’s beautiful in its entirety,” Gen says. 

“Why’d you make Senku an old man though?” Ginro asks. He leans in conspiratorially, and says to Chrome in a stage whisper, “You secretly want Senku dead, don’t you? Oooh, is Chrome _jealous_ of Senku’s science genius?”

“No one said that was Senku, Ginro!”

“Stop trying to start a fight,” Kohaku grumbles, smacking him on the arm.

“Ouch!” Ginro scrambles away. “Kinroooo,” he whines, crawling to the other guard’s side. “Help me, I’m being _attacked_!”

“‘S what you get for being stupid,” Kinro replies, uncompromising.

Ruri giggles behind her hand. “I think it was a nice story, Chrome. I think the Scientist will definitely live up to his mentor’s expectations. I bet he’s full of all kinds of surprises.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” Chrome mumbles. The light from the fire is just enough to see his blushing. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

“All right,” Gen says. He gets to his feet and claps twice, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. He smiles, fox-like. “I have a story to tell.”

* * *

In this story, there is a Cat. It is small, but quick and cunning, and its shadow-coloured fur lets it blend in and hide anywhere it wishes. This Cat likes being on its own. It likes wandering the world, stopping wherever it finds people to see if it can convince them to give it some fish. It naps when it pleases and eats when it’s hungry, and its life is easy, simple and filled with contentment.

One day, the Cat is chasing a butterfly when it falls into a river. A huge river, raging and rushing with all the force of a terrifying storm. The Cat nearly drowns, struggling just to keep its head above water. It doesn’t know how long it spends in that river fighting to stay alive, but more than once it thinks about simply giving up and letting the waters overtake it.

(“ _Oh no, that poor cat!_ ” / “ _It’s not a real cat, you know._ ” / “ _All stories are real in some way. I think this one is very real, Senku._ ” / “ _...You understand this story better than most, don’t you, Ruri dear?_ ”)

After a long, long time, far longer than the Cat can count, it washes up on a distant shore, far from all the places it once knew, cold and hungry and alone. Out of the bushes by that shore comes a Dog.

The Dog barks once, tail wagging, and says, “Hi! Welcome to our home! Would you like to stay a while?”

The Cat, still confused and afraid, hisses at the dog, arching its back. “I have claws, little Dog. I will scratch you until you bleed. I will not stay with you.”

The Dog tilts its head, confused. It says, “But we—”

The Cat doesn’t wait to hear the rest. It turns and runs away.

Further inland, among the trees and leaf litter, the Cat finds a Hawk perched among the high branches. The two animals eye each other warily.

“Get out of my territory, Cat,” says the Hawk. “I don’t trust creatures that can hide wherever they like. I can give you fish for the journey, but I do not want you to stay here, where you could bring danger.”

The Cat smiles, and tries to ignore how its belly rumbles. “I have teeth, little Hawk. I don’t need your fish. I will catch my own.”

The Cat leaves the Hawk behind.

Eventually, the Cat arrives at a wall of thorns. It looks to the left and the right. The thorns grow on all sides. “Fine,” says the Cat with a shiver. “I need to get through here, so I will simply go through the thorns, for I am small and nimble and quick.”

The clever little Cat dives into the thorn bush, crawling through the gaps between vines as the thorns catch and pull at its fur, leaving long scratches down its back. When it tumbles out the other side, the Cat is much weaker, not to mention cold and still wet from the river waters. It lies there for some time, uncertain if it can go on.

Then, a Snake, who is just as clever and cunning as the little black cat, appears.

“Wanna see something cool?” the Snake asks.

“No,” says the Cat, straining to stay awake. “I have teeth and claws and I will hurt you, little Snake, so stay away from me.”

“You’re hurt,” says the Snake. “You cleared a path through the thorns for us when none of us could. Let us help you too.”

The Cat hisses, and the story would have ended there, but the Snake is too clever for its own good, so it ignores the Cat’s words and twines itself around the Cat. 

“Watch,” says the Snake, pointing its snout at the tunnel the Cat made through the wall of thorns.

The Cat screeches at the top of its lungs. No reply. This is not a surprise; it has no true allies in this place, after all. It squirms, but the Snake doesn’t let go. Soon, a procession of animals comes marching through the thorns, the Dog and the Hawk leading the way.

“Look at that!” the Snake murmurs. “What a welcome party! And all for you, too! Look how important you are, how much you are wanted here!”

“They only came running because I was screaming,” the Cat protests. “They don’t know who I am.”

“They would have done that for anyone, and they did it for you.” The Snake flicks its tongue out, still tangled around the Cat’s fur.

“Why? That’s silly. There is no one in this place that matters less than me,” the Cat argues. “You offered me food and shelter, but I would never do the same for any of you.”

“True,” the Snake concedes. It loosens its grip on the Cat and the Cat, seeing its chance, darts away.

Then the Hawk swoops into its path, forcing the Cat to skid to a halt. However, this quick little Cat is nimble and clever, and it dodges away from the Hawk’s buffeting wings. “Wait,” cries the Hawk. “You’re bleeding. We can help you.”

As soon as the Cat turns, there is the Dog, who barks, “No one matters less than you, but no one matters more than you either!”

The Cat, stunned by these words, goes still. The other animals gather around, and one by one, they ask the Cat to stay. The Snake promises to tend to its wounds. The Hawk offers its favourite fish. The Dog gives the gift of shelter, a warm and cozy den. The Snake, their leader, slithers up to the Cat, blinking slowly. “So? Will you join us, Cat?”

What did the Cat say, you might ask?

Well, faced with kindness like that, how could he say no?

* * *

“I see,” Ruri says softly.

“I’m sure you do,” Gen replies, expression as gentle as it ever gets. He bows with all the grace of a true showman and sits back down, legs crossed.

Kaseki nods thoughtfully. “A proper story, with animals, just like they had back in my day.”

Senku snorts. “You have no idea how old you sound, do you?”

“Ah, well,” Kaseki chuckles good-naturedly. “It can’t be helped. I _am_ a lot older than you, that’s for certain.”

Chrome, who’d been frowning intently at Gen up until now, straightens up. “That cat was _you_ , wasn’t it?” he cries.

Gen laughs. “So the hare finally catches up to the tortoise.”

Chrome frowns. “What? Wasn’t I the dog in that story?”

“You’re imagining things,” Kohaku says, blinking sleepily at the fire. Her head rests on Ruri’s shoulder. “Should we…” She trails off with a yawn.

Nearby, Suika and Ginro have fallen asleep, curled up against Kinro, who’s stiff as a board and eyeing the two of them uncertainly. Most of the villagers have dispersed, and the fire is getting low. The constellations look down on them, sparkling.

“Look,” Senku mumbles, tilting his head up to the stars. “Lepus. Orion. Canis major. Canis minor. The hunter and his dogs chase the hare.”

“You should tell us that story some time, dear,” Gen says.

“Eh. Maybe later.”

The darkness slinks in around them on all sides, warded off only by the faint glow of the fire and the easy murmur of their voices, sharing stories and company deep into the night. The sound of their talking rises with the bonfire smoke, high into the starry sky. As humanity has always been, so it is again. 

**Author's Note:**

> the old astronomer poem they talk about can be found [here](https://archive.org/stream/twilighthoursleg00willrich#page/68/mode/1up). It really is very pretty.


End file.
